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In theory, avoiding the Inquisitor was easy. Skyhold was a large fortress - it was why Solas thought to bring the Inquisition here, after all - and with the growing following she had gathered, he believed he would be able to manage it. He convinced himself that there would be plenty of duties that would require her attention, serve as distractions.
In reality, he proved himself to be an absolute fool. It seemed that some higher power was determined to assault him with reminders of his mistake, his weakness. He reminded himself that the pain he had caused the Inquisitor was entirely his fault; he had had multiple opportunities to end their dalliance and yet ignored every single one. She complicated things, tearing apart the fragile threads that stitched together his worldview. A part of him hated her for it. Another, larger part of him loved her with his whole body, mind, and soul. That part of him was dangerous, because it would not leave him in peace.
It voiced the doubts he dare not say aloud, wondered what he could have if he just…let go. In this lifetime, he was nothing more than a man who disliked tea and studied the Fade. In this lifetime, he was nothing more than a man in love. A love, he reminded himself, that he had spurned. Even if he were to turn back now, he feared it was far too late. Yet fate seemed determined to prove him wrong.
“Why are you here?”
Solas turned at the sound of her voice, ignoring the pang he felt at just how accusatory she sounded. When he spoke, he was both amazed and disheartened at how steady his voice was. “Would you expect to find me anywhere else?”
“You have the entirety of the Fade to wander. Why are you here?”
“I would ask the same of you.”
Laid out before them was the cave where they had parted ways, looking just as it had when they left. The twilight lighting, the water gently lapping at the shore, the warm breeze…It was much more vivid than Solas had anticipated. He was rather used to the clarity in which the Fade presented itself to him, but this space was entirely of the Inquisitor’s creation. He had yet to decide how he felt about that small detail.
“Dread Wolf take you,” she grumbled.
Solas bit down the sigh that bubbled in his throat. Or would it have been a bitter laugh? Or maybe even a sob? Regardless, the irony clawed at the back of his mind even as he said, “It seems that I have interrupted something. If it pleases you, Inquisitor, I shall take my leave.”
“Tell me something, before you go.”
He paused mid-step before slowly turning back to her. He suspected he would regret this. The easy choice would be to leave her behind, just as he had in the Crestview of the waking world. Yet he found himself drowning in the gray of her eyes, in the unspoken questions she longed to ask him. Once more ignoring the warnings in his own head, he nodded.
“I suppose I do owe you that much,” he conceded.
“Why did you leave?”
Solas felt the weight of her question settle in the pit of his stomach. “Don’t ask me that, lethallan…” he murmured.
“Oh, so you will only refer to me as lethallan now?” she demanded, anger once more creeping into her voice. “Is it because of my face? You’re the one that suggested it!”
“It’s not that…”
“Then what? Why have you decided to turn away now? Am I not good enough for you?”
Every word she uttered only managed to stab into his heart. He wanted so desperately to tell her that she was more than enough. He had not loved nor wanted anyone more than her, at least not in a very, very long time. In the short time they had known each other, she had become his world, consumed his every waking thought. He cherished her and would have gladly thrown all his plans aside for a chance at happiness. The promise of being by her side forever entranced him more than he cared to admit. It was exactly for that reason that he had to nip that thought process in the bud.
Yet he could not tell her the truth. He was familiar with her character now, and knew she would try to stop him. Convince him that he could have a chance at happiness with her. She would encourage his selfishness and he would happily allow her to. It was a distraction she would gladly give, and a distraction he could not afford.
“Do not believe that, even for a second. You were more than enough.”
“Then why? Please, Solas. I…I just want to know what I messed up.”
Oh, vhenan, it is I who is at fault.
He shook his head. “Do not blame yourself and please do not ask me for my reasoning. I cannot tell you, for it is my burden to bear.”
“I don’t accept that as an answer,” she argued.
He smiled faintly, though the motion failed to reach his eyes, which only managed to mirror her sadness. “But you must. Just as you must move on from me, from our relationship.” He finally willed himself to turn away from her and resumed walking away from her.
“I hate you.” It was little more than a whisper, but he still heard it.
“As you have every right to.” Fen’harel had made many mistakes in his lifetime, but it seemed that this would be the one he regretted the most.